


The Board

by QuietBubbles



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Demons, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fun, Ghosts, Horror, M/M, Ouija, Romance, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 21:00:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11906118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietBubbles/pseuds/QuietBubbles
Summary: When Dan and Phil moved into their newest apartment, all seemed well. But the discovery of a mysterious box in the attic opens a door that should always have remained closed...Horror and Fluff, will be updated regularly-enjoy! <3 xxx





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Hope you enjoy my latest attempt at fanfiction. As always, I feel a little weird writing about real people, but this story is so out there that I think it's alright-and we're already on the internet, so...anyway! I've never seen any movies with a Ouija board apart from The Exorcist, so hopefully this won't turn out too similar-though it already has the "family moves to new house and there's horror" trope :P Will be updated! Comments and kudos always appreciated-enjoy! xxx

 “Hey, Dan! Come here!”

 Dan tilted his head slightly towards the sound of Phil’s voice, not taking his eyes off the glowing laptop screen before him. “Why?” he whined, much too comfortable in his browsing position to move for anything trivial.

 “Look what I’ve found!”

 “Unless you’ve “found” a way to replace the cereal you stole this morning, I’m not interested.”

 “Seriously, you’ve got to see this!”

 With a guttural groan, Dan closed his laptop and shoved it aside. He pulled himself to his feet and sloped through the flat, reluctantly climbing the stairs, following Phil’s voice until, beneath the usually closed portal to the attic- he found a ladder. The ladder was silver, pulled down from the ceiling entrance above. On the topmost rung were a pair of feet, clothed in mismatched socks. “Phil? What are you doing up there?” He was confused-they used the attic only to store things they did not need access to for the foreseeable future. Dan had only climbed this ladder himself a handful of times before, when they had first moved in, to transport large cardboard boxes and old suitcases of miscellaneous. It was dark up there; the lightbulb did not work and they had not yet felt the need, nor had the inclination, to replace it. With all those rectangular and square shapes, it rather looked like a graveyard in the near-blackness. Dan remembered folding the ladder away and closing the trap door as quickly as he could.

 Phil’s feet had begun to climb carefully down the ladder, steadying themselves on each rung before feeling for the next. “I was looking for some of our old stuff to laugh at in a video. You know, old props or whatever. But-“ Phil was halfway down the ladder by now-and Dan realised that he was not using his hands.

 “Careful!” he called straight away, rushing to the base of the ladder to make sure his clumsy boyfriend did not fall.

 “I’m fine! Thanks though.” Phil smiled down at him gratefully. Now that he was directly beneath, Dan could see that Phil’s arms were full-he was clutching a box to his chest. It was black, wide but not thick-about the size of a Scrabble box. “Look at this!” he said, reaching the bottom and stepping off onto the floor. He held the box out, flat like a tray.

 “Is that yours?” Dan blinked doubtfully. Now he could see it in the light, it was slightly grey around the edges, covered in a thin layer of dust. He did not remember ever seeing this, let alone thinking it important enough to bring with them on the move.

 “No. I thought it might be yours-then I opened it.” Phil handed the box to Dan while he turned the torch off on his phone, by the light of which he had been searching. Gingerly, trying not to touch the more frail-looking grey corners, Dan eased the lid off of the box. Then, upon seeing what was inside-he nearly dropped it.

 Looking up at him was a dark brown wooden board. The surface was littered with letters-in fact, the whole alphabet, shining in black paint. Below which, numbers from zero to nine in the same black letters. In the corners-YES and NO. At the very bottom-GOODBYE. And in the centre at the very top-one word. OUIJA.

 Dan paused for a second-before thrusting the box back into Phil’s arms. “Nope. Nope, nope, nope. I’m not touching that thing.” He giggled nervously, rolling his eyes. “Very funny, Phil. When did you find the time to buy that between cereal heist and watering the houseplants?”

 Phil shook his head. “I didn’t. I found it up there.”

 “Shut up!” Dan laughed, giving his boyfriend a gentle shove. “Look, are you filming this?” He scanned the hall for cameras, microphones.

 “No!” Phil protested,

 Dan folded his arms, leaning on the wall. “So you’re telling me that you just _happened_ upon a bloody _Ouija_ board in the attic? What is this, a cheap, found-footage horror movie?”

 “Maybe it’s been here since we moved in…” Phil theorised, looking down thoughtfully at the box. “Maybe it belonged to the last tenants, or something…”

 “Look, I’m not buying this, you know that? Come on, I’m going back down. Do you want a cup of tea?” Dan shook his head at this most basic attempt at a prank, before turning on his heel and beginning to make his way back towards the stairs.

 “Wait!” Phil hurried after him, still clutching the box. “I’m actually serious!”

 Dan stopped, then spun around again to face him. He searched Phil’s face for a hint of mirth, a smirk, a spark in the eye…but was more than surprised to find nothing. He knew Phil so well, he could always tell when he was lying…still, he was sceptical. “Well, if you really did just stumble across it, I say, in the words of Mike Wasowski, _put that thing back where it came from, or so help me_ -“

 “I honestly did,” said Phil, still no hint of a joke in his face, or his voice. He looked mildly worried. “Do you think we should try and get hold of the landlord? I’d hate to think of the last tenants looking all over for it.”

 Dan sniffed, looking at the dusty box again. It was so sweet of Phil to care about complete strangers. “Well, it doesn’t look like they used it very much-if at all. I doubt they’re missing it. Look, put it back where you found it and we’ll say no more. But you go up the ladder first and I’ll hand it up to you-I don’t want you climbing without holding on again.”

 In spite of himself, Phil smiled. “Your concern for my safety is very sweet.”

 “Not really-I just don’t fancy scraping you out of the carpet if you fall.”

 “Love you too,” Phil scoffed-before his eyes lit up. “Hey-wouldn’t this be a funny video?”

 “What?”

 “If we played this and-“

 “NO!” Dan shook his head, holding his hands up and taking a few steps backwards. “Absolutely not! No way, not now, not ever. No.”

 “Oh, come on,” Phil said, warming to the idea. “Wouldn’t it be a great way to round off Spooky Week next month? On the gaming channel, so people know we’re not serious. It would be hilarious-everyone would love it. They love to watch us screaming and falling off chairs in fear.” 

 “Do I need to say it again? No, no, no, no, no, no, _no_!”

 “Can I take that as a maybe?” Phil grinned, before arranging his face into something more serious. “Look, if you really don’t want to, I’ll put it back. But it would be _such_ a funny video. It’s not like any of it’s real-the whole thing’s load of rubbish, you know that…don’t you?”

 Dan paused-then gave a weird laugh. “Of _course_ it’s not real. It’s just…” He sighed. “Look, don’t laugh. You know I don’t believe in any of this bullshit. And yet I know, if we played it, I wouldn’t sleep for a week!” He giggled guiltily.

 Phil raised an eyebrow-but his eyes were very soft as the corners of his mouth twitched. “Nothing’s going to crawl out from under the bed, bear.” He reached out, taking Dan’s hand comfortingly in his. “No need to be scared.”

 “I know! I’m not scared!” Dan protested, standing a little taller. He did not like the way Phil was looking at him, as if he was a child frightened of the dark. He steadied himself, pursing his lips. “ _Alright_! I’ll think about it, okay?”

 Phil’s eyes glinted-and instantly, Dan knew that this had been his plan all along. “Good. Thanks.” He leaned up to kiss Dan’s cheek over the box. “I’ll have that cup of tea, then, please.”

 Happy to get away, Dan made his way down the stairs to the kitchen, switching on the kettle and rooting in the cupboard for teabags and mugs. He leaned against the counter as he waited for it to boil, gazing distractedly out of the window. The sky was just turning pink, the day lasting just a little longer at the end of summer. He heard Phil coming down the stairs and going into the living room, and smiled. No matter what stupid idea Phil had next for their gaming channel, Dan loved him more than he thought he could ever love anyone. Even after all this time, just his footsteps on the stairs, knowing that Phil was here with him, that he _wanted_ to be here with him, because he loved him too-it was the best feeling there was.

 After throwing the teabags into the bin, Dan carried the two brimming mugs into the living room-and almost dropped them at the sight that met his eyes. There was Phil, kneeling on the living room floor-with the Ouija board spread out on the coffee table, the planchette lying upside-down beside it. It was then that he realised that the board was not printed, as they ordinarily were. The letters and numbers were hand-painted onto the board. He slammed both mugs onto the chest of drawers, tea spilling out onto the surface.

 “What the hell is this?”

 “I just wanted to look at it,” Phil murmured, giving a sheepish smile. “Sorry-I’ve just never seen one in the flesh before.”

 “Look, put it away before the twins from _The Shining_ show up,” Dan said, skirting the long way around the room so that he did not have to get too close to it. “It makes the whole place look like some kind of satanic cult.”

 Phil looked up, raising that eyebrow again. “You really _are_ scared of it.”

 “Shut _up_!” Dan protested, pointedly sitting down beside him, within touching distance of the board. “I’m not scared, I just value my sleep!”

 Phil leaned over and squeezed his hand again. “You don’t have to pretend with me, babe. Just say the word, and I’ll throw it in the bin for you, promise.”

 Dan stiffened, shaking his head firmly. He did not like the gentle tone Phil was using with him, as if he was that delicate child. “I’m not scared! Bloody hell!” He scoffed, that little bit too enthusiastically. “Do whatever you want-it’s just a bit of wood with some letters on it! It’s not even a proper one-it’s all handwritten. Like I said, I’ll think about the video, alright?”

 “Alright!” Phil kept hold of his hand as he looked back at the board. “It _is_ creepy, though…think I’ve seen too many horror movies!”

 “Yeah, me too,” Dan said, settling down. It was true-the board was so hand-drawn, it looked almost ridiculous. The letters and numbers were neatly spaced, but the person who had made it was no penman. “It’s alright really. You can have it out if you like. Not like anything’s going to spring out of it, hey?”

 “No, absolutely,” Phil agreed, fingering the planchette. “Hey! That’s glass over the window! I thought it would be plastic!”

 “Mmm…” Dan was becoming mildly interested. In their well-lit living room, it could hardly be called scary. It was just a board with writing on, after all. Nothing more than that. “Do you think the old tenants were spiritualists or something?”

 “What, like, mediums and stuff? Maybe. Maybe they had a whole cult in here…”

 “Oh God, don’t…” Dan gingerly touched the edge of the Ouija board. It was strange…sort of sickeningly intriguing. Maybe doing the gaming video with Phil would be a good idea after all…

 “Maybe…we should try it out?”

 Dan looked at him. “What, now?” he asked, suddenly almost tempted.

 “Yeah,” Phil had picked up the planchette and was moving it experimentally on the table top. “Maybe we could come up with a sketch for the video?”

 Dan paused. Then-he sighed. “No. It’s daft. Let’s catch up on _Rick and Morty_ or something.”

 “Still scared?” Once again, that teasing glint flicked through Phil’s eye. “It’ll be fun.”

 “I’m not scared-there is nothing to be scared of!” Dan protested-then rolled his eyes. “Alright _fine_. If it will shut you up, we’ll play it for ten minutes.”

 The grin on Phil’s face told Dan that he was far too easily persuaded by his boyfriend. There was just something about that smile-he could never quite refuse him anything, no matter how hard he tried. Or how stupid the request could be. But it was just a game, after all. He had seen Derren Brown-when you played, you moved the planchette yourself subconsciously, no matter how much it seemed like it was moving on its own. There really _wasn’t_ anything to be scared of. Nothing at all. “Do you even know _how_ to play?”

 Phil was looking quizzically at the board. “There weren’t any instructions on the box. I think you just sort of…let it happen. And I remember that you should always say “Goodbye” at the end.”

 “Say “goodbye” to what?” Dan scoffed as he moved over to the other side of the coffee table. “But yeah. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

 Dan took his seat, kneeling and looking down at the board. It could not seem scary in the bright light of their living room, the pink sky outside. He felt almost silly as he watched Phil place the planchette down in the centre of the board, just above the letter _G_ , before placing the first two fingers of both hands on the edges. With a snort, Dan followed suit, getting ready to crack sarcastic jokes when inevitably nothing happened.

 “Should we say something?” Phil wondered aloud. “Or move it around?”

 “I’ll let you do the talking.” said Dan, readying himself for a very boring ten minutes. Still, it was taking all his energy to ignore the stirring sensation inside him. As if he was about to open a locked door, or jump over a gate-entering somewhere completely forbidden…but quickly, he was distracted by the planchette. Phil began to move it around the board in slow circles, while Dan let his fingers follow, another jolt of discomfort in his stomach.

 “Er…” Phil began nervously. “Hello?”

 Dan almost laughed out loud at the contrived ridiculousness-but managed to keep his face straight, still following the planchette with his eyes. Once Phil had circled the board a few times, he slowed down.

 “Is…er…is anyone here?”

 Phil stopped moving the planchette, until it came to a halt in the centre of the board, just above the letter _G_. Dan waited, watching the thing like a hawk. For a long moment, there was nothing. Dan was half-expecting the thing to move off on its own-and yet he knew that logically nothing could possibly happen. Even if it did, he knew that it would only be their own subconscious movements, for it couldn’t possibly be-

 “Maybe there’s some sort of ritual you’re supposed to do at the beginning, or something.” Phil murmured, still looking expectantly at the planchette.

 “What, like, sacrificing a goat?” Dan sneered.  

 “I’ll ask again…” Once again, Phil began to move the planchette in slow circles around the board, this time, with a little more conviction. “Is anyone here?” 

 Dan let his fingers be guided, in circles, circles, circles…he was almost glad that they had no idea how to use one of these things. It was far less creepy this way, with the half-lit sky and bright overhead light. The whole thing was just…wait. Were the circles growing smaller? No…the planchette was cutting right through the middle of the board. What was Phil doing? And a curve around…then another diagonal line through the middle…and another curve…they were making figure-eights on the board. 

 Phil must have changed direction. Only, when Dan looked closely…he was barely touching the planchette. Only holding on with the very tips of his fingers…just like Dan. And when Dan stole a glance up at Phil’s face…he looked extremely concerned.

 Dan caught himself before his mind could begin to wonder in strange directions. No. Of course they were moving the planchette together-subconsciously, like every other person who had ever played a Ouija board. The change to figure eights must just be incidental-

 But, slowly, the planchette came to a halt in the middle of the board, once again over the letter _G_. But this time, the _G_ was perfectly placed inside the glass window. Then, the planchette moved slowly to the right, as if through sticky toffee. Now, it sat directly above the letter _E_. Dan felt a shiver down his spine. It was as if the air had suddenly become a lot thicker, heavier somehow. He could not take his eyes off the board. Just as slowly, down to the letter _T_. Still, each of them held the planchette only with the slightest touch. Left…almost to the end of the board, over the letter _O_. Then, to the right. Almost the centre. The letter _U_. Once place to the left. Again, it was the letter _T_ -

 “ _Woah_!” Phil drew his hand away from the planchette, springing almost a foot backwards on the living room floor. His eyes were wider than Dan had ever seen them-and his mouth was hanging open. He looked up at Dan, a short silence falling…

 Then, simultaneously, and rather shakily-both of them burst out into peals of laughter. As the atmosphere shattered, Dan removed his own hand, planting his face in it as he giggled, shaking his head. “Oh my God, Phil, that’s not funny!”

 “What do you mean?” Phil asked, still laughing. “I wasn’t doing that.”

 “Yeah, whatever!” Dan got to his feet, walking determinedly over to his cup of tea on the side and taking a long glug. The drink was quite soothing, grounding him. “Come on, put that thing away,” he said, trying to return his voice to its normal intonation. “Let’s go to bed. _Rick and Morty_?”

 Phil stood up, leaning over the table and putting the board firmly back into the box, the planchette tucked in beside it. He shut the lid-then smiled up at Dan. “Thanks. I know you’re funny about this kind of thing. Thanks for humouring me.”

 “You’ll be the end of me, I swear…” Dan said darkly. “Lucky I love you. Come on, let’s go.” He grabbed Phil’s hand and dragged him upstairs and back to reality.

 It was only later, when Phil was snoring gently by his side, his arm flung clumsily over him-that Dan had a sudden thought. He looked up at the dark ceiling, and remembered that, after they had finished playing-they had not said “Goodbye” when they had finished…He felt a strange, cold twisting in his stomach.

 Quietly scolding himself for taking such a stupid thing seriously, he rolled over, tucking himself into Phil’s chest, and closed his eyes.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you so much for reading, and for leaving comments and kudos! Very much appreciated <3 More soon! <3 xxx

 Phil woke up earlier than he usually would have done-not that it could really be called early. His eyes followed the whirls on the ceiling as his mind wondered back to the dream that had caused his abrupt awakening. It had been strange. Not a nightmare, as such…but not a good dream either. Just strange. He tilted his head up slightly and looked over to the furthest corner of the room-which stood empty in the morning light, as always. But, in his dream, there had been…he could not remember.

 Rubbing his hands across his face as he drove the last of sleepy fog from his brain, he looked over to the other side of the bed. Dan had rolled over in the night and was now spread out, one arm hanging over the side of the bed, his mouth hanging slightly open in an adorably dopey way. Phil smiled, wondering whether to grab his camera and drop something into it, or whether that would be far too mean. He decided against it, reasoning that Dan would legitimately murder him for waking him up this early. Again, not that it was _really_ early.

 Moving ridiculously slowly and carefully, Phil eased himself out of bed and snuck across the room, opening the door an inch at a time so as not to wake his boyfriend. Eventually, he slipped into the corridor and resumed his normal pace as he headed towards the kitchen. He flipped the kettle on, grabbing two mugs and spooning instant coffee. Ignoring last night’s washing up, which was still lying defiantly in the sink, smelling vaguely of curry, he carried both drinks back into the bedroom. He set Dan’s mug on the cabinet beside him, then sat down carefully on his side, sipping the hot liquid. He thought of the previous night. The Ouija board. He grinned into his mug of coffee-for a moment, while playing it, he had been legitimately scared. It was so silly…but still, even though Dan had explained to him at least twice that any words being spelled out on a Ouija board were your own subconscious work-Phil had not counting on his subconsciousness being quite so willing to creep him out. Surely Phil Lester’s subconsciousness would have been more likely to spell out something along the lines of “I-W-A-N-T-S-O-M-E-T-O-A-S-T” than the far more enigmatic “G-E-T-O-U-T”. It had sent more than a shiver down Phil’s spine…he had definitely read too much Stephen King.

 Somewhere deep inside, a part of him could not help but wonder…what if…? Phil pressed his lips together. He felt ridiculous for even considering it. But that little part of him, the part that was almost willing to believe, itched like crazy. Why would the previous tenants have even had the board at all, if they didn’t think, even slightly suspect, that this apartment might be…

 After a while, Dan stirred, pushing his lips together before his eyelids, like warm toffee, pulled themselves apart. “M-morning,” he croaked, upon seeing Phil sat upright. “Have you been up long?”

 “Not really.” said Phil, taking another sip of coffee before pointing to Dan’s own mug.

 “Oh, thanks,” Dan sat up, lifting the arm that had been hung over the side of the bed to reach for the mug-before Phil gasped.

 “What’s that on your arm?”

 Dan blinked, confused, as he picked up the coffee mug.

 “That!” Phil leaned over him and pointed directly at the strange purple bruise that had suddenly appeared on Dan’s forearm. It was dark and blotchy, and oddly ring-shaped. “How did you do that?”

 “Oh!” Dan frowned, confused as he studied it. “Where did that come from?”

 “I think you’d remember getting a bruise like that! Oh dear…” Phil sighed, taking Dan’s mug and setting it back for him before picking up his arm, gently running his finger over the bruise. “It looks bad- _surely_ you must remember how you did it!”

 “I don’t know.” Dan jabbed his finger into the darkest part, wincing in pain as he did so. “Maybe I whacked it during the night, or something. The shape is so weird…almost like…I don’t know-something _bit_ me…” He looked up at Phil. “You didn’t get hungry in the night, did you?” he asked, his eyes glinting.

 “Pfft!” Phil shoved him gently-but still, he looked worriedly at the bruise. “We should put some ice on that, baby. Try and get it to go down a bit.”

 “It doesn’t really hurt,” said Dan, reaching for his coffee mug again and shaking the last of sleep from his head. “Look, forget about it. Maybe I banged it yesterday, or something. It doesn’t matter. Come on, what was it we needed to do today?”

 Phil paused, considering-then leaned down and kissed Dan’s bruise, deciding not to dwell on it. “Shopping. Unless you want baked beans on an old green pepper for tea, we need to go shopping.”

 “Sounds delicious,” said Dan, rolling his eyes. “Can’t we just do it online, darling? I can’t be bothered.”

 “No, come on, we said we’d go. Get out of the house for a bit.” Phil found himself rather wanting to breathe in some fresh air. He looked over to the furthest corner of the bedroom, trying to recall exactly what it was that he had dreamed there… “It will do us good.”

 Dan raised an eyebrow. “Who are you, and what have you done with Phil Lester?”

 Phil laughed, shoving him gently in the ribs once again. “Come on. Tesco.”

* * *

 

“Hey, can you pass me the onions please?” Dan called over, turning off the gas and spooning noodles into bowls. Almost instantly, Phil arrived at his side with the chopping board, the green onions sitting readily sliced. Phil may procrastinate some things, but never dinner. Dan sprinkled the onions over the top of each portion, adding a pinch of sesame seeds before pronouncing them ready. He carried them to the dining table where Phil had thrown cutlery minutes before, and they both began to eat.

 “Oh, hang on.” Phil chewed his first bite as he stood up, hurrying over to the kitchen drawer and retrieving the small box of matches inside. He struck one and lit the scented candles in the centre of the table. “Now.”

 Dan smiled as he swallowed. “How romantic.”

 “Best boyfriend ever, that’s me,” Phil breezed, taking another bite. “That one’s raspberry and vanilla. It always makes me want dessert….But Dan?”

 “Yeah?” he answered through a mouthful of noodles.

 Phil took a deep breath, steadying himself for the coming question. “It’s just…it’s been playing on my mind all day. I wondered whether…I wondered if you might consider playing again.”

 “Playing?”

 “The board.”

 Dan’s jaws stopped. As if with great difficulty, he swallowed again. “What?”

 “I mean-we didn’t really get a good feel for it yesterday, what with…anyway. I think we should give it another go before we try to film it.” This was only half a lie. He truly did care about this potential video-but that same itch could only be scratched by satisfaction. Still, he racked his brains to recall what on earth it was that he had dreamed into the corner of their bedroom… Bracing himself for Dan’s scathing comments, he decided to be truthful. “And…I did wonder why the last tenants would even have _had_ the board unless they thought that there might be something-“

 “Phil!” Dan put his fork down, burying his head in his hands. “Don’t be bloody ridiculous. They had the board because they were nutters, alright? There is no way that there could possibly be _anything_ sentient of any description in this apartment apart from us and the houseplants.”

 “I know!” Phil protested. “I know I’m being daft but…I still think we should play again. Come on, babe, humour me.” He widened his eyes, trying to look as appealing as he could, reaching out to take Dan’s hand. “Go on. What’s the harm?”

 “My psychological harm…” Dan muttered darkly-but Phil could see that he was weakening. He pressed on.

 “Please?”

 Dan took another bite of noodles, chewing thoroughly, before, reluctantly-he nodded. “Fine. Just to prove you wrong, though, darling. My science will triumph over your superstition, any day. That’s what it does. That’s what science is _for_.”

 

* * *

 

 “Is anyone here?”

 Phil finished circling the planchette around the board and settled it over the letter _G_.

 For a long few minutes-nothing happened. Out of the corner of his eye, Phil could see Dan’s face growing smug, his fingers relaxing on the planchette as he waited. Still, there was nothing. Not the slightest bit of movement. He kept an eye on his watch as the seconds ticked by in complete silence. Seven minutes. Eight. Nine. 

 But then…Phil’s heart leapt as the planchette, whether by their own subconscious force or the force of something else, began slowly to inch to the left. He felt thumping in his throat as his fingers moved with it, stealing a glance up at Dan-who was suddenly looking a little less than unconcerned. The planchette slid on and on, until finally, the glass window perfectly encircled the letter _A_. Then, it began to slide to the right. _R_. Then- _M_.

 Phil’s throat had closed up. He looked at Dan’s arm-which, under the living room lights, shone bright purple with the bruise they had discovered this morning. As he gawped at it, a thousand possibilities rushing into his head-Dan let out a strange, high-pitched laugh.

 “Oh, come on!” he scoffed. “You can see my bruise from there! Subconsciously, you must have been thinking about it! That proves that this whole thing is bullshit.” He removed his fingers from the planchette, folding his arms. “Science wins. Are you happy now?”

 “No!” Phil protested. He was quite shaken, his face growing paler. “Do you honestly think it’s just a coincidence that you get a weird bruise out of nowhere the morning after we find this? Dan, subconsciously or not, I am _not_ moving that planchette! It’s moving by itse-“

 “Oh, don’t even say that,” Dan rolled his eyes. “Look, even if something crawled out of the board and twatted me during the night, it would hardly politely tell us that it was responsible!” He took Phil’s wrists, trying to prize his hands from the planchette. “You’ve got to put this thing away, darling. It’s stopping you thinking straight.”

 Phil considered, trying to see Dan’s reasoning. He knew Occam’s Razor-Dan’s explanation of subconsciousness and coincidence was simpler, therefore far more likely than anything Phil’s imagination was currently conjuring up. Of course Dan was right. But still…Phil knew his body. And he knew that he had _not_ been moving that planchette. He kept his fingers locked firmly to it, resisting Dan’s efforts. “Please. Just let’s finish the session, alright? Say goodbye _properly_ , and-“

 But no sooner had the word “goodbye” fallen from his lips-the planchette had begun to move again. Without Dan’s fingers, it seemed to move a lot faster. As soon as it did so-Dan’s hands shot away from his wrists, and he backed away from the board with eyes much wider and more fearful than his sceptical words would suggest. Phil could do nothing but let himself be guided, over the board until…the window circled the letter _T_. Then, picking up speed, the letter _O_. It stayed over the _O_ for quite some time, twice as long as it had the previous one-before again, moving onto the letter _L. A. T. E._

 Phil felt sick. He had felt the planchette move, with his own hands. _Too late_ …

 Dan said nothing for a long moment. Now, he had watched the planchette drag Phil’s hands around the board, seemingly of its own accord. But, finally, in a voice far quieter than was natural- “Come on. It’s just like _get out_ yesterday. Too much Stephen King-“

 “Who are you?” Phil demanded of the board, in a voice far more authoritative that he ever ordinarily was. His shock was making his desperate. “Why is it too late? What do you mean?”

 Nothing. Phil stared down determinedly at the board like an animal waiting for its prey to emerge from hiding and come out into the light…

 “Phil…” said Dan, his voice very soft. “Phil, you’re scaring me…” He walked around to the other side of the coffee table and put a hand on Phil’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “You’re so tense…Please, darling. Put it away. Come to bed.”

 Still, there was nothing. Phil gritted his teeth, hardly even blinking as he watched.

 Then-

 Once again, the planchette began to move. This time, the movement was slower, more rigid-nothing like the smooth, flowing strokes of before. Phil felt as if his fingers were wading through water as he followed the planchette to the letter _H._

_E._

_L._

_P._

 Phil’s heart was beating so fast he wondered that it did not break down.

 But finally…all movement had stopped. Nothing more came.

 Slowly, Phil slid the planchette over GOODBYE. He looked wordlessly up at Dan.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Omg thank you so much for reading and all your comments and kudos! You guys are the best. More soon, hope you enjoy! <3 xxxx

 “We cannot just move on from this!” Phil protested, following Dan into the bedroom. Dan himself sighed, pulling his t-shirt over his head and beginning to unbutton his jeans. He did not say a word until he had climbed into bed, pulling the duvet up to his chest.

 “Phil, the more we talk about it, the more we will convince ourselves of it! It’s just putting more fuel on the fire.” He sighed once again, folding his arms and hugging his knees to himself..

 “I don’t need convincing,” said Phil. He stood fast, still shaken from their experience in the living room. Dan may have seemed dismissive-but Phil knew him well enough to know that he was as distressed as he was. His arms were a little too tight, his eyes a little too wide. “We can’t pretend that what just happened wasn’t real. We can’t stop-“

  ““I’m putting that thing back in the attic tomorrow, and I’m going to hide it somewhere you won’t be able to find it,” said Dan, sitting up a little straighter. “This is crazy. Look at you! You know none of this is possible! And yet you-“

 “Dan, it hurt you!” Phil marched to his side and took his arm, straightening it out in front of them so that the bruise was clear as day.

 “There is no “it”!” Dan raised his voice a little, twisting out of Phil’s grasp. “There’s no “it”, there’s nothing except us controlling the planchette, and there is no such thing as-as-whatever. I hurt myself, you know what I’m like. Please, stop this! It’s not healthy-“

 “ _Please_ ,” It was taking all Phil’s strength not to cry out in frustration. “The evidence is all around us. We both saw what just happened with our own eyes. Neither you nor I spelled those words out. And your arm-“ He took Dan’s arm again, far more gently this time, looking down at the bruise. It filled him with a dread that no amount of cryptic messages could. “Baby, I don’t think you should stay here. Whatever “it” is, it’s hurting you, and I can’t stand by and let that happen. Maybe you should go and stay with your mum for a bit-“

 “NO!” Dan snatched his arm away once again, looking at Phil like he was crazy. But his eyes softened slightly. “Look, I love you for saying that, but you know that’s insane. I’m not in any more danger here than I was last week, before you found the board. It’s just a bruise, a perfectly normal bruise…” He reached up to stroke Phil’s cheek. “Please. I know you’ve got all those ideas in your head now…but you know they’re impossible, really. I know you do. I’m going to get rid of the board, and then we can forget about all of this, okay?”

 Phil gritted his teeth. His head knew that Dan was right. But in his heart...he knew something wasn't right. As he docilely undressed, pulled his pyjamas on and got into bed, his mind was whirring with possibilities. He kissed Dan goodnight, as if everything was perfectly normal-but instead of simply cuddling him, as they always did-Phil found himself wrapping Dan rather protectively into his arms, making sure that no aspect of him could fall over the edge of the bed. He held him as close as he could, until his breathing slowly turned even and deep. But sleep would not come for Phil. Even as the clock ticked around to the earliest hours, Phil lay awake, his eyes flicking around and around the room for any evidence of activity, anything that could possibly hurt Dan. For he did not know what he believed-but he was almost certain that they were not alone in this house…

* * *

 

 Phil woke up before Dan once again as light streamed through the curtains. He must have fallen asleep sometime around four…and there had been nothing but quietness. Everything in the room looked perfectly normal. His dreams had been perfectly ordinary, if a little mundane. He looked over to Dan, who again had rolled over during the night-but all of his limbs were safely beneath the covers. He was fine. They were both fine.

 Maybe Dan was right. Having slept on it, he considered. Maybe he had been a little too dramatic last night. In the cold light of day, it was much more difficult to feel scared of a piece of wood…he ran his fingers through his hair as he considered his options. He hated being at odds with Dan over anything, let alone something that was probably nothing at all. Houses just had weird energy sometimes-and maybe he truly _had_ been moving the planchette himself. It was the far simpler explanation.

 Dan _was_ right. Suggestion was a powerful thing-the more he believed in it, the more it would appear to be true. It was basic psychology. By the time the clock had ticked around to ten, he had made up his mind.

 Phil crept out of bed, and made his way downstairs to the living room. There, on the coffee table, sat the Ouija board, the planchette set carelessly off to the side. In the morning light, it looked no more threatening than the table on which it sat. He gritted his teeth-then quickly packed it away into its battered black box. He closed the lid firmly-then carried it through to the kitchen. Without a second thought-he stamped on the peddle and opened the lid of the bin. And before he could change his mind-he dropped it on top of the remnants of last night’s noodle soup.

 The moment he did so-Phil felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He closed the lid defiantly and strolled into the bathroom for a shower. As he ran the water, he even managed to sing to himself, washing his hair with far more cheerful vigour than was necessary and letting the stream go dizzily to his head…Today was going to be a good day…

 Half an hour later, he made his way back into the bedroom, towelling his hair dry with one hand and carrying a mug of coffee in the other. Lo and behold, Dan was still asleep. He smiled, placing the coffee down on the bedside cabinet-before throwing himself down onto the bed with a bump.

 “Woah!” Dan gave a cry as he was jolted awake-then, as his senses came to him, he shoved Phil hard with his shoulders. “You bastard! I hate you so much!”

 “Good morning to you too.” Phil kissed his forehead, beaming as he glared at him, rubbing the last of sleep from his eyes. This combination of sleepiness, morning sweetness and rage made Dan even more adorable than usual.

 “I actually hate you…” said Dan darkly-but, finally, he smiled. “What’s got you in such a good mood?”

 Phil raised an eyebrow. “I got rid of it.”

 “Of what?” Dan blinked.

 “The board.”

 It took a few seconds for Dan to process what had just been said…but as soon as he did-he grinned a mile wide in pleasant surprise. “You’ve seen sense!” He threw his arms around him, giving a huge sigh of relief. “I’m so glad! Thought you were going crazy for a minute there…”

 “Yeah. Me too.” said Phil, kissing him again. “You were right. It’s like _Harry Potter_ -if you read about death omens, you’ll start seeing them everywhere. There’s no one here except you and me-just how I like it.”

 “Me too,” Dan said into his shoulder, before pulling back to smile gratefully at him. “I love you.”

 “Love you too…” Phil said, thinking for the millionth time how lucky he was that he had found his best friend and the love of his life all rolled into one wonderful person…before, like sudden black clouds over a blue sky-something caught his eye. And what he saw made his heart drop right out of his chest. “Dan?”

 “What?”

 “Look at your arm.”

 Dan stretched out his arm, now free of the duvet…and there, right beside the first ring-shaped bruise…was another. Purple. Blotchy. And bigger.

 “Oh…” Dan’s mouth hung open, his eyes wide. He twisted his arm back and forth, as if it might disappear in the right light. But no. There was no denying what they both could see.

 There was no denying any of it now.

 “Phil, stop!”

 But it was too late. Phil had sprinted out of the bedroom, thundering down the stairs to the kitchen. He threw open the bin with so much force that he almost upended it…But all he could see inside were last night’s noodles.

 Panic gripping him, Phil pulled the bin backwards to check behind it, then scoured the kitchen for any evidence of the black box. A coldness filled him as he realised that the box had vanished. No. _No_. That was impossible. _All_ of this was impossible…

 In a daze, Phil backed out of the kitchen into the hallway, shaking his head as he felt a sort of sickness come over him, a faint roaring in his ears…he was going to vomit or faint…and that was when he saw it.

 “Phil!” Dan cried, reaching the bottom of the stairs just as Phil collapsed into the wall, his hands clasped over his mouth so hard that it was almost impossible to breathe. “Oh God, what’s happened?” He hurried to his side, wrapping his arms around his waist to support him, almost holding him upright. But Phil was beyond words. All he could do was point, with one shaking hand.

 Through the open living room door, he could see the coffee table. On the floor beside it, exactly from whence Phil had retrieved it-was the black box. And set up on the table, the planchette placed readily over the letter _G_ …was the board.

* * *

 

 “Well, it’s a bit _Paranormal Activity_ ,” said Dan, putting fresh batteries into each of their cameras. He had managed to find quite a trove of them, using any old cameras they had that would still work. “But if we’ve got the equipment, we might as well use it.” He looked over to his boyfriend, who was sat very close to him on the sofa, clutching a cup of very strong tea in both hands. Phil was staring straight ahead, his blue eyes rather misted over. Dan sighed, scooting over to put his arm around him. “Hey. Drink up. I put practically a whole bag of sugar into it for shock.”

 Phil obediently took a sip, shuddering slightly at the sweetness. He shook his head several times, as he had done repeatedly over the course of the last hour.

 “You okay?” Dan asked him gently.

 Phil looked at him, his eyes very wide. “Are _you_?” He sighed, looking down at Dan’s arm, wincing as he did so. “Your poor arm. I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t ever found the bloody thing, you would never have got hurt-”

 “ _Stop it_! Don’t you dare blame yourself!” Dan shook his shoulders gently, pulling him closer. Even the very mild swearing made it clear just how scared Phil was. “Stop that now, you’re being ridiculous. Look, I’m going to set these up all over the flat. Whether there really is anything here or not-we’ll find out for sure. If there is anything to prove, I will do it empirically or not at all,” He looked at the array of cameras on the coffee table before him, all carefully placed around the board, ready to go. Unexplained phenomena was not the way to prove that they were not the only residents of their new apartment. Science was. “You drink your tea, darling. We’ll soon know.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you so so much for reading, and for all your lovely comments and kudos! I appreciate it all so much, you guys are the best <3 more soon, hope you enjoy! xxxx

Dan almost jumped out of his skin as the toaster popped. Scolding himself for being so jumpy, he retrieved the toast and spread each slice with margarine, before shoving the first one into his mouth without bothering to cut it. As he ate, he stared up at the ceiling, wondering whether to take some upstairs for Phil. Phil himself was taking a nap. It had been a rather sleepless night, and he was suffering rather a lot with it. Whenever Dan had woken from his own fitful sleep, Phil’s eyes had been wide open. The purple bags which now lay beneath them proved that he could not have slept for more than an hour, and Dan had insisted he go back to bed. But, despite concern for his boyfriend, he had his own reasons to be pleased that Phil sleepily agreed.

 Dan pushed up the sleeve of his jumper and studied his arm. A _third_ bruise had appeared beside the first two-darker this time, and still in that strange ring-shape.  He had not shown Phil-it would only panic him further, and he desperately wanted Phil to get some sleep so that they could discuss their predicament rationally. Dan fingered the new mark worriedly-then, before his mind could begin to whir as Phil’s undoubtedly would, he pulled out his mobile phone. Logically, the most likely reason for these bruises was medical. He had googled his symptom-and come back with some rather frightening answers; blood disorders, even cancers…he shuddered, shoving another bite of toast into his mouth to distract himself. Phoning the doctor seemed like a good idea…but he put it off. He was not sure that he would like what a doctor might have to say about his mysterious bruising…

 Carrying his plate into the living room, Dan leaned against the doorframe as he considered the board that had started the trouble, still spread readily on the coffee table. _Caused all the trouble_ …Dan rebuked himself once again-a piece of wood could not “cause trouble”. He looked at the camera they had set up over it, focused directly onto the board which had appeared to move the night before…Dan pursed his lips. Though Phil had been truly shaken-Dan remained quietly sceptical. There was bound to be a reasonable explanation for all of it. Perhaps Phil’s memory had played him false in his poor mental state-perhaps he had never moved the board at all. If this was the case, then it was understandable that Phil would be so scared when he saw that the board seemingly having leaped by itself from the kitchen to the living room...

 He did not like to say so in front of him. Dan did not want his boyfriend to feel alone in this, like Dan did not believe him. But having spent his whole life believing all that was supernatural impossible (and yet being terrified of it), it was very difficult to take Phil’s fears seriously. Once again, he looked at the camera. Hopefully-now, he would be able to prove Phil wrong once and for all, and they could finally move on from this madness.

 Dan set his plate down and marched up to the camera, looking experimentally through the viewfinder. They had promised to look together…but curiosity got the better of him. Phil would never know that he had looked…he would just check, that was all. And when he inevitably found nothing, he could put all of his energy into supporting Phil when they looked through it together. For he was far less worried about the strange goings-on in the flat than he was about Phil. He would make himself ill, being so freaked out like this…hopefully, the contents of the tapes would bring him comfort.

 Before he could talk himself out of it, he had grabbed the camera and plugged it into his laptop, letting the contents upload as he finished his toast. When it had finally loaded-Dan opened the footage and stared at the first frame. The Ouija board, exactly as it appeared in front of him. Twelve hours of footage. He pressed “fast forward” as many times as the machine would allow, before hitting “play”.

 Dan watched as the minutes ticked by like seconds in the corner of the screen as the camera tracked the board through the night…despite himself, nerves bit at him as he tried not to consider what he would do if the world truly _had_ gone mad and he _did_ see something. But it was like staring at a photograph. Nothing changed-even the planchette did not move an inch. By the time the hours had crept up to twelve, the board sat exactly as it did now, entirely wooden, entirely insentient. The tape showed nothing at all to see.

 Dan smiled. He had known there would be nothing to see. He closed his laptop and replaced the camera, rolling his eyes triumphantly at the board. _You’re not all that_ , he thought smugly. _You’re nothing at all_.

 A weight off his shoulders, Dan was on a roll. He got to his feet, and crept upstairs into their bedroom, where another camera was set up, this time pointed directly at the bed, in which Phil was gratefully sleeping. Dan smiled down at him for a moment-he was just so adorable, sleeping like a child. Pity tugged in his heart as he looked at those purple bags, shocking on his pale skin. But as soon as he watched the tapes, Dan knew that he would sleep well tonight.

 Noiselessly, Dan eased the camera from the tripod and snuck down to the living room, once again connecting the camera to his laptop. He waited for it to upload, tapping his fingers on the keyboard impatiently-until finally, he pressed “play”. 

 The bedroom footage was much harder to watch than the board. He could see Phil lying awake for hours and hours, his eyes flicking around the room from corner to corner, like a sentry. Dan saw himself, far less concerned, sleeping and waking throughout the night. Despite himself, he smiled when he saw himself lean over to hold Phil close, kissing him comfortingly, before falling asleep once again. It was such a loving image…But Phil remained wide awake. It was not until the tape’s clock showed six o’clock in the morning that Phil began to struggle to keep his eyes open. Finally, around half an hour later, his eyes fluttered shut and he began to breathe more deeply…poor Phil. Dan’s heart sank as he watched him. He loved him so much, it was hell to see him suffer…

 Once again, Dan sighed sympathetically as a mere half-hour later, Phil’s eyes were open again. His boyfriend was scanning the corners of the room once again, as if he was expecting to have to fight something off…Dan gulped guiltily-he wished he had been awake to comfort him. He hated to see Phil-wait. Wait…Perhaps it was the camera. It had to be just the camera…but Phil’s eyes seemed much brighter than before. Oddly bright. Like a pair of dim car headlights in the twilight. Dan narrowed his own eyes as he watched his boyfriend staring unblinkingly up at the ceiling…

 Suddenly-Phil sat bolt upright. Dan jumped as he did so, rushing to slow down the footage. He did not remember Phil getting up in the night…but, as he watched-he noticed something strange about the way he was sitting. Phil never held himself so upright, his back never so straight, his head never held so high…Dan glanced at himself, sleeping obliviously beside him.

 Then, as rigid as a machine-Phil flipped his head around to look at Dan. Noiselessly, and impossibly without disturbing the sheets-he suddenly leaned over him. Dan’s bruised arm lay beside him on the bed, facing upright as he slept helplessly on. Phil stared down at it for a moment, breathing raggedly-before-

 Dan watched in horror as the sweet, kind, gentle ray of sunshine that was his lovely boyfriend swooped down-and bit hard into his forearm. Fear and sickness churned inside him as he watched Phil shake his arm between his teeth as he chewed it, panting like a mad, rabid dog…


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thank you so much for reading, and for all the comments and kudos! Love you all <3 sorry for the short chapter! More soon! xxx

Phil’s eyes fluttered open. He stretched, untangling his legs from the sheets. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the camera Dan had set up the previous evening, to watch them as they slept. He wondered vaguely whether it had caught anything…though it had been a very quiet night. Again, there had been no strange dreams, no disturbances, nothing at all out of the ordinary-apart from his sleeplessness…He reached across to the bedside cabinet, checking the time on his phone. Just gone noon. What a waste of a day…but he was glad of the extra hours of sleep after such a restless night…

 He slid out of bed and got to his feet, before heading downstairs to look for Dan. As he passed the living room, he noticed the board, still glaring up at him from the coffee table. It sent a terrible lurch through his stomach-the shock of seeing it, having seemingly travelled by itself from the bin to the table in an entirely different room…he still felt shaken. It was as if everything had been a bit of a game-but now, it was all horribly real…something was in this house with them. Something he did not understand. And, most dreadfully of all, something that had hurt Dan. And that sickened him to the core.

 Finally, he located Dan in the kitchen. He was sitting on the edge of the counter, a cup of tea clasped in both hands, and a very strange look on his face. He did not acknowledge Phil’s entrance at all.

 “Hi,” said Phil, flicking the switch of the kettle and finding a mug for himself. “Thanks for letting me sleep. I needed that.” He crossed the room to Dan and leaned up to kiss his cheek-and was more than a little surprised when Dan twitched away from him.

 “Dan?” He frowned, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

 Dan started-then shook his head a few times. “N-nothing. Nothing at all,” He finally looked at Phil-but could not quite meet his eyes. “I’m glad you got something sleep.” He made a brave attempt at a smile, before reaching out to awkwardly pat Phil on the shoulder-a poor substitute for a kiss. Still, Phil tried not to take it to heart. They were both tired. And no matter what Dan tried to pretend-Phil knew he was almost as scared as he was.

 “Look, we’ll go through the tapes later, okay?” he said, comfortingly. “We’ll work out what’s going on here-find out what’s hurting you, baby…” He sighed. “I could kill anything that harmed you, you know…it makes me sick to think that I’ve let this thing into our lives…” He reached out, a put a hand gently on Dan’s knee. “It’s going to be alright. I don’t know what’s happening…but I’m going to make this right again, I promise.”

 Dan said nothing. He merely sniffed, staring determinedly down into his tea. Then, finally-he looked up. “It’s not your fault. Look, I’m not sure we should watch the tapes,” His voice began to speed up. “It’ll only make us look for things that aren’t there. It was a silly idea. Why don’t we just throw them out?”

 “What?” Phil blinked, confused. “But-“

 “We’ll take the board somewhere quiet tonight,” Dan continued, slamming his mug down on the side and getting to his feet. “Somewhere far away-and we’ll burn it. I looked on the internet-that’s the only way to destroy it for good. You have to burn it and dispose of the ashes, so that it can never come back.”

 Phil was shocked. He had not heard Dan talk about the board so seriously before now. There was a look in his eyes-a genuine fear he had not seen before now. And a sort of shiftiness-as if he was hiding something. “Dan? What’s brought this on…?” But he could sense it. He knew Dan too well-he could read him like a book. “You-you’ve watched the tapes, haven’t you?”

 Dan’s eyes widened. “How did you know?”

 “Just you,” said Phil. He wasn’t angry-just worried. “Baby…did you see something?”

 For a long moment…Dan was silent. It was as if he had turned to stone-he stood, perfectly stiff, one hand on the side, one hanging oddly by his side. Phil could not fathom what was going on behind those fearful brown eyes…until he blinked hard. “No. There’s nothing to be gained from watching them, though. I-I just want this to be over.” After once again awkwardly patting Phil’s arm-Dan started towards the door. “I’m heading out for a walk. I’ll see you in a bit.”

 “Dan-wait-a _walk_?” Phil was more mystified than ever. Dan had never been known to voluntarily go for a walk. But before Phil could question him any further-the key had turned in the front door. Dan was gone.

 Phil leaned backward on the counter, his head almost aching with confusion. What had happed to Dan? He wanted to run after him-but something told him that Dan wanted to be left alone. But what could have scared him this much?

 He wondered rather mindlessly out into the hallway, still slightly dazed from the sudden change in Dan. What one Earth could he do now? Then...his eyes fell on the open living room door. On the table-the Ouija board lay defiantly, almost mocking him…the planchette was positioned just above the letter _G_. Ready to play.

 Phil clenched his fists. Every fibre of his being was telling him to leave the thing alone. They would burn it tonight, and that would be the end…and yet. Curiosity bit at him. If this was his last chance…he wanted to get to the bottom of this. He wanted to learn all the secrets of this mysterious board…

 Against all of his better judgement-Phil found that his legs were walking him into the living room, and kneeling down in front of the board. He placed his fingers carefully on the planchette, and took a deep breath.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thank you so much for reading, and for all your comments and kudos! More soon, enjoy! xxx
> 
> So sorry this chapter is so short! I have been ridiculously busy! Next one will be longer, promise! xxx

 Dan leaned back in his seat, taking a long sip of the medicinal hot chocolate he had just bought. The plastic cup was a little too thin not to burn his fingers, the chocolate flavour not quite strong enough to satisfy him. But even this depressingly empty coffee shop with sub-standard drinks was better than spending another minute inside that flat.

 He could not get over what he had seen. Phil, the nicest person in the world, who would not hurt a fly, with his humane mousetraps and perpetual sweetness. Phil, who would never dream of harming Dan in any way. Phil, who loved him. He simply could not make the connection between _his_ Phil and the being he had seen on tape, biting into his arm, worrying his flesh, leaving…Dan rolled up his sleeve and gently touched his bruises. The oldest was yellowing now, but the newest were purple and black. It explained the strange ring-shape, at least. But as for the rest of it…he simply could not understand it.

 Phil- _his_ Phil-would never hurt him. He knew that. It was an absolute fact, as certain as the sky. And yet he was.

 And the only explanation Dan could muster was one that defied every belief he had ever held.

 Dan shook his head. He could not forget the way that Phil had jerked upright-too upright, his spine far too straight. The way he had moved. It was as if the person he had watched on tape was not Phil at all, but another creature entirely, merely wearing his face. That was the only similarity between his Phil and the thing that had bitten him. And then…there were those eyes. Dan had racked his brains over and over, trying to figure out what on Earth could rationally explain how someone’s eyes could suddenly glow in the dark like streetlamps. The camera, lights from outside, a light left on in the bathroom…but none of those added up. He must have watched the tape ten times, and still-he simply could not fathom it.

 Another long sip of disappointing hot chocolate later-Dan buried his head in his hands. No. He refused to consider it. He could not and would not believe it…but the longer he thought on it, the more his mind centred on the only possible, and yet completely impossible, explanation.

 He didn’t know it-but something was controlling Phil. Something that Dan did not understand.

* * *

 

 Phil took a deep breath. He assumed his most authoritative tone as he stared down in fury at the board.

 “Why are you hurting my boyfriend?” he demanded protectively. 

 Nothing. The board stayed defiantly still.

 “Why are you hurting him?” he repeated, staring it down. “What has he done? What have _we_ done?”

 Nothing.

 Phil decided to change tactic. “We are going to burn you tonight. This is your last day in this world. Do you have nothing to say for yourself?”

 For a long moment…stillness. Phil wondered-was playing alone the problem? Did it perhaps respond better to two players? Maybe he should wait until Dan returned-where on Earth had he got to? It was so unlike him to go out voluntarily for a _walk_ -in fact, it was completely unheard of. He was so worried about him-poor Dan and his bruises, he loved him so-

 The planchette had begun to move. Inching diagonally up to the right, until eventually, the window hovered definitely over _NO_.

 Phil’s heart leapt. “No? No what?”

 But the planchette was moving again. Down, down…until the window showed the number _0_.

 “What?” Phil said aloud-but suddenly, a shiver shot down his spine. It was as if freezing cold fingers had tickled every vertebrae in a most unpleasant way. Automatically, he looked behind him-but all he could see was the sofa, and the wall. He turned back to the board-but already, the planchette was moving again. To the left.

  _9_.

 The room was definitely getting colder.

  _8._

 _7_.

 A noticeable drop. Several degrees as Phil’s fingers followed the planchette. Why was it counting down? He felt the cold through his shirt now, wishing that he had put on a jumper. Had he left the window open? But he could not take his eyes off the board.

_6._

_4_.

 Phil felt as if he had been plunged into cold water. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up.

_3._

_2_.

 Something was behind him.

  _1_.

 


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! <3 Thank you so much for reading, and for all your comments and kudos! Love you all <3 more soon! xxx

 “Phil?” Dan called as he closed the front door. He slipped off his shoes before making his way towards the living room, fear biting at him as he went. It was impossible to antiscipate what he would found. But guilt was stirring in his stomach too-Phil must be just as scared as he was. As far as Dan knew, he could not know what he was doing. Unless he had watched the tape by now. Either way, Dan forced himself to hurry through the house. “Phil? Where are you?”

 There was no answer, so Dan pushed the living room door open. There, as he had suspected, Phil was sitting on the sofa, his black hair still mused from sleep-he had not bothered to comb it. Otherwise, he looked perfectly fine. Dan breathed a small sigh of relief…before realising that he had prematurely celebrated. Dread crept over his heart like cold fingers, grasping and squeezing as he looked at his boyfriend. And his boyfriend did not look back.

 Phil had not made a single movement since he had entered the room. No acknowledgement of his entrance-not even the slightest jerk of the head, rise and fall of the shoulders. He stared straight ahead, right at the opposite wall. And he did not blink. Before him, the board sat, the planchette poised over “ _GOODBYE_ ”. Dan was filled with loathing as he looked at the thing-but now, he was far too concerned about Phil to care.

 “Phil?” he took a dubious step forward. “Hello?” He crept to his side, sitting nervously down next to him. He reached out, and touched his hand with one cautious finger. “Oh, darling, you’re freezing cold…”

 Still, Phil did not react. He continued to stare at the wall.

 Panic began to grasp Dan as he looked at him, catatonic on the sofa. Should he call an ambulance? But what could anyone do for him? Phil’s skin was ice, as if he had been outside in the snow-but the living room was warm, the sun bright outside in the early autumn. How could he be so cold? Dan felt completely helpless, useless in the face of this. There was no handbook for-

 “I’m going to get you a blanket, okay? You just stay there…”

 Dan ran from the room, hurrying up the stairs to their bedroom. He grabbed the thermal blanket from the end of their bed and ran back down to the living room with it balled up in his arms. Still, Phil sat, as motionless as a statue, staring at the wall. Dan let out a small moan of fear-it physically hurt him to see the person he loved in such a state-before wrapping his boyfriend tightly in the blanket, tucking it around him. He folded the edges underneath, rubbing his freezing hands through it, trying desperately to warm him. “What do I do?” he murmured aloud, his voice an octave higher than usual. “Oh God, what do I do?”

 Still, there was nothing from Phil, not even the slightest reaction. Dan looked at his eyes, unblinking and glazed over. It was as if he was watching something…but when Dan followed his gaze, there was nothing but the blank wall opposite them. He let out another whimper as he frantically rubbed Phil’s hands in his-still, his skin was like cold stone. _He_ was like stone, an empty shell. There was none of Phil’s shine, Phil’s warmth in those eyes-they were as lifeless as a corpse. Tenfold, Dan felt terrified tears prickling behind his eyes as his helplessness washed over him…

  _Stop. Think._

 Trying to even out his breathing, Dan tore his eyes from his unresponsive boyfriend…to the coffee table. The board sat, defiantly staring up at him.

 Dan gritted his teeth. He had never hated an inanimate object in his life…but he hated this thing. He hated what it had done to his Phil…as the clouds of panic cleared, Dan quickly decided what he must do. He had to get rid of the thing. He had to get rid of it, once and for all, and then Phil would come back to him…

 He stood up, bending quickly to kiss Phil’s hair-to no answer. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice trembling. “I’m going to fix this, darling. You just hang in there, okay? I’m going to make this go away, I promise…I'm going to end this now...”

 Dan ran into the kitchen, moving faster than he ever had in his life. He yanked open the drawer so hard that he almost pulled it off its hinges, rummaging until he found a large pair of black kitchen scissors. Gripping them tightly, and without bothering to close the drawer, he sprinted back into the living room, before dropping to his knees beside the board. Still, Phil was motionless, the blanket beginning to slip from his shoulders-but Dan was filled with a new energy now. He was going to do it. He was going to save him.

 Grabbing the corner of the board, he yanked it up off the table, the thin wood it was made of bending easily in his hand. He pulled the scissors open, struggling with his right hand, and positioned them over the corner of the board. Taking a deep breath, he pursed his lips, and cut-

 The next thing Dan knew-he was airborne.

 With an enormous crash, Dan cried out in pain as he smashed into the wall, sliding down and landing in a heap on the floor. He looked up, dazed-before pain shot through his whole body-a terrible burning sensation shooting across his front. It took a few seconds of confusion, before Dan realised-he had just been thrown across the room.

Dan had flown clean across the room. Thrown-by something he could not see.

 Hissing with pain, he straightened himself up as best he could. The pain he could understand, from colliding with the wall-but the _burning_. The front of his torso, as if he had just fallen into flaming coals…He hiked up his t-shirt to inspect the damage-and almost screamed at what he saw.

 There, right in the centre of his belly, scarlet and shining-was a handprint. A perfect handprint, burned onto his skin. Someone-or something-had shoved its hand into him and, with the mere force of this, thrown him backwards…away from the board…

 Dan whimpered. He found his hands shaking in fear as his eyes darted all around the room. No. No. This wasn’t possible…this _could not_ be possible…

 Still, Phil was motionless. He sat beneath the blanket, eyes front. He had not reacted in the slightest. Dan was more scared than ever-how could Phil, _his_ Phil, hear his cries, see him being thrown across the room by an unseen force, and not respond in the slightest…But this _wasn’t_ his Phil.

 Dan pulled up his shirt again, staring at this impossible mark. What could have thrown him with one hand, burned into his skin with a simple touch-a _human_ handprint? What could possibly have…?

 Phil’s spine was far too straight, his head far too well-poised-just as it had been on the tape. But now the first waves of shock were passing…Dan realised that the blanket had slipped from his shoulders. It had fallen down to his elbows. And-he had moved a few inches to the left. Towards the board.

 No. _No_. He would not believe it. It was impossible. But what remained in the realms of possibility when Dan had just been thrown and burned by an unseen force? Unless.....

 He felt sick.

 Slowly, Dan walked back towards the sofa. He took a deep breath. Then, he reached down, and, as if reaching into a pit of snakes, he picked up Phil’s hand. It was as cold as ice. Dan could hardly steady his hands as he pulled up his shirt once again. Then, praying to anything and everything there was that he was wrong-he placed Phil’s hand carefully on his belly. Right on top of the impossible burn mark.

 And it fitted perfectly.

As if it had been ripped from his throat-Dan let out a cry, from the very depths of his soul.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you so so much for reading! <3 I'm really enjoying writing this, and I hope you are enjoying it too!   
> Thank you so much for all your comments and kudos too, it's so kind of you and I really appreciate it :) More soon! xxx  
> SPOILER: Fluff to come, promise! xxx

Phil awoke with a jolt, finding himself clinging onto the side of his bed…wait. This wasn’t his bed. This was the sofa...he frowned, rubbing his eyes as he sat up-as his thermal blanket fell from him, revealing jeans and yesterday’s shirt. He blinked in astonishment-why had he slept, fully-clothed, in the living room? Still half-dazed, he reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone to check the time. It was half-past eight in the morning…but what had happened to last night? He swore, just seconds ago, he had been...what had he been doing?

 Becoming rather concerned, Phil looked around the room for clues. The board sat innocently on the table before him, the planchette still resting atop “ _GOODBYE_ ”…he remembered playing the Ouija board, certainly. Well…most of it. He definitely remembered resting his fingers on the planchette and feeling it move…but little else…

 Phil stretched, yawning. He must have somehow accidentally fallen asleep... Dan must have found him, and covered him in this blanket, leaving him to sleep. How sweet of him…but so much sweeter was sleeping beside him. Smiling, Phil swung his legs down, collecting the blanket in his arms, and began to make his way up the stairs, feeling sweaty and strange from sleeping in his clothes. When he reached their bedroom, he slung the blanket over his shoulder, so that he could free his hand to turn the door handle…but when he tried to push the door open-it would not budge.

 He frowned. Though he tried again, and again, applying more force each time, the door simply would not open. It was as if it was locked-but they did not have a lock on their bedroom door…He tried again, pushing as hard as he could-and this time, the door opened an inch. It was then that he realised-the door had been barricaded.

 Suddenly-there was movement from inside. A pair of feet rushed to the door-then skidded to a halt behind it. A pause. “Phil?” a voice called, sounding fearful.

 “Of course?” Phil answered, confused. “Dan, are you okay?”

 Another pause. “It’s…it’s really you?” his boyfriend asked, uncertainly.

 “Who else could it be?” Phil was growing more concerned by the moment. “Baby, what’s wrong? Why have you barricaded the door?”

 “Oh!” An enormous sigh of relief-before the sound of wood being dragged across the floor. Finally, the door opened a crack-and a very tired-looking Dan emerged. He kept himself half-hidden behind the door, staring at Phil through glassy eyes, adorned with purple bags. With those eyes, he studied Phil, as carefully as a policeman studies a suspect. But, after a few seconds-his face broke into a great smile of relief, and he collapsed into his arms. “Oh, darling, it’s really you! You’re back!” He held him so tightly that Phil could hardly breathe. “I’m so glad you’re back!”

 “Dan? What do you mean?” Phil shook his head a few times, unsure if he was still dreaming. But still-after Dan had been so distant the day before, it was wonderful simply to hold him close. He let himself sink into him, drinking in his warm, familiar smell. But still-he could not fathom why Dan was trembling in his arms.

 When the embrace finally broke, Dan cupped his face in his hands, looking deep into his eyes. “It’s really you in there…” he said again, oddly misty, his voice thick. “Oh God, I missed you…”

 Phil was utterly bemused. “I know you left me on the sofa all night, but what have I done to deserve such a welcome? I’ve not been at war, you know. But what’s wrong?” he asked, more urgently as Dan lead him into their room. He looked back to see that Dan had pushed their heaviest chest of drawers up against the door. Why had he done it?

 Dan said nothing. He lead him by the hand to the bed, and sat him down. Then, taking his hands once again, he sat beside him, looking more afraid than ever. “Phil…oh God, Phil…” He stammered over his words, seeming close to tears. “I don’t even know how to begin to tell you!”

 Fear began to grip Phil. “Tell me what?”

 Dan swallowed a few times, before meeting his eyes. “I…I didn’t want to tell you…but it’s gone too far…”

 “Tell me _what_?” Phil repeated, clasping his hands tighter. “Baby, has something happened? Are you okay?”

 Dan leaned into him for a moment, his lips pressed tightly together. Then-he stiffened. He reached behind him on the bed, and pulled out his laptop, opening up the video files and beginning to scroll through. Finally-he opened one. The screen was filled with the image of the two of them, asleep in this very bed. Phil’s stomach jolted-this must be one of the tapes Dan had made.

 Dan himself had taken Phil’s hand again. He looked pained, tears sparkling in his eyes. His voice became unnaturally fast and frantic. “Before you watch this…just know that I love you, and nothing is going to change that. I know that none of this is your fault, I promise. I don’t blame you. Just-“

 “ _Dan_?” Phil’s blood had run cold. “You’re scaring me.”

 “-Just watch the tape…” The mouse hovered over the play button, before, with one last, desperately worried look at Phil-Dan started the tape in fast-forward.

 Phil watched as the hours ticked by on the onscreen clock. He could see himself lying awake, scanning the room for danger. He could see Dan fitfully sleeping, once waking to offer him comfort…but otherwise-nothing.

 As the tape was nearing its end-Dan hit “pause”. He reduced the speed of the tape to real time. Then, bracing himself-he pressed “play” once again.

 Phil watched himself lying awake on the tape, still completely confused. It was almost the end of the night, and they had seen nothing. He could even see himself falling asleep, as he had finally managed to do in the small hours…he began to wonder if, perhaps, he had missed something…until it happened. Phil frowned as he saw himself sit up. He jumped as he saw his very own eyes flashing, as bright as streetlamps, leaning in close to the screen to get a better look. Then…and then…and then…

 Phil felt his heart physically shatter in his chest as he watched himself bite into Dan’s arm.

 What? No. _No_. How could this be? It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t believe it. How could he-how could he hurt the person he loved more than anything in the world? He couldn’t, of course he couldn’t. It was against every fibre of his nature, of his very being. There had to be some mistake.

 But there he was. Worrying Dan’s arm like a wild beast. Leaving…leaving a perfect, ring-shaped bruise. A bite-mark.

 As the tape stopped-Phil felt as though all of his insides had disappeared. Dan…no… _no_ …He looked at his boyfriend, his Dan, his own Dan, tears flowing down his cheeks…and the three bite-marks that blackened his arm. They stood out sickeningly on his pale skin.

 The next thing he knew-Phil had leapt to his feet and backed into the wall. He gave a wordless groan, before burying his face in his hands. “ _No…no…_ ” The roaring in his ears told him that he was about to be sick, or faint… How could he? How could he?  “Dan…Dan, I-I-”

 “Phil!” Dan followed him, wrapping his arms comfortingly around his waist. “Please don’t! It’s not your fault-it’s the board! I told you-!”

 But this only made it worse. He could not look at him. But now-he understood. “It’s been me all along…” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. His voice sounded oddly disembodied. “All the strange things that have been happening since I found the thing…it’s _me_ …”

 “ _No_ ,” Dan insisted, still holding him. “ _That_ -“ He pointed at the tape. “That is not you, Phil. That is-“

 “-a monster…” Phil whispered, a strange tingling sensation filling him as the magnitude of what this meant filled him. He felt that he could rip his own jaw out for what it had done. 

 “NO! Shut up!” Dan was on the verge of tears again. “I don’t know what it is-but it is not you! Whatever the thing hurting me is, it’s not Phil Lester!” He cupped his face in his hands again, forcing Phil to meet his eyes. “I know that you would never dream of biting me like that, or throwing me across the room-you’re my Phil, and I love you, and none of this is your-“

 “Wait,” Phil felt his stomach drop again. “What do you mean, _throwing_ you?”

 Instantly-Dan buried his face in his hands, groaning. “Oh God, I didn’t mean to…” He sighed hard-then, reluctantly, closing his eyes-he pulled up his shirt. As he recognised his own handprint inexplicably burned into Dan’s skin…Phil let out a cry of grief. He stared at it for a moment-before twisting out of Dan’s grasp and rushing to the other side of the room. Regarding his own hands in horror, unable to believe what they had done-he knotted them together behind his back, locking them between himself and the wall. He felt like he was fending off a wild animal-only _he_ was the animal. He wanted to tear both his hands off for what they had done. 

 “Phil…” Dan whimpered, a tear spilling down his cheek. He took a step towards him, his eyes desperate. “Phil, _please_ …this isn’t you. Don’t you see? No human could have done this. Something-something’s _possessing_ you, or something?” He ran his hands frantically through his hair. “Oh God, I feel like such an idiot just for saying those words…but I can’t think of any other explanation. Darling, something is controlling you. You sort of go rigid, catatonic-and you do impossible things…and…and…” He swallowed hard. “This goes way beyond us. I think-I think we need help.”

 But Phil hardly heard him. All he could see were the bruises, the burns, the ways he had marked the skin of the person he loved, damaged him, caused him pain…such was his self-loathing that his brain could not even process it. It was as if he had gone numb. He knew, if he fully absorbed what he had done, what _his_ hands and _his_ teeth had done…he could not live with himself.

 “Dan…” he managed to say, his voice far calmer than he felt. “…you need to get out of here. You need to get as far away from this flat, and that board, and-and _me_ -as you can.” Trapped behind his back, his hands were shaking.

 “ _No_.” said Dan firmly. “I am _not_ leaving you.” He sighed, taking a few more steps towards Phil, his hands outstretched. “I love you, and I know that we can find a way out of this together. If you would just-“

 “Stop! Please!” Phil shrunk further away, backing himself into the corner of the room. “ _Please_. I don’t want to hurt you!”

 Dan paused, shocked-but more tears fell. “You won’t hurt me! You’re you! You would never-”

 “How can you know that? _I_ don’t even know that!” Phil’s own eyes were welling up, anger, frustration and horrible guilt overwhelming him. He had never been so terrified of anything in his life as he was of himself that moment. And all he could think about was Dan. “What if it happened again? You said it yourself-I did things that no human can do! If I can throw you across a room, burn you with my bare hand, what else could I do? What if next time, I _really_ hurt you? What if-“ His tears began to spill uncontrollably as the most terrible thought of all loomed in his mind. “What if I _killed_ you, Dan?”

 That was it. Phil could not bear it. He sank to the floor, locking his offending hands around himself so that they might do no more damage. On the other side of the room, he could hear Dan quietly sobbing. He could not stand to look at him-but he made himself speak, his words spilling out in almost incomprehensible chaos. “I love you…I love you so much...I’m so sorry…you have to go…”

 “No…” Dan whispered through his tears. “I will never leave you.”

 “ _Please_ , Dan.” Phil begged him. “I have to protect you."

 “And I you!” Dan cried, the rise of his voice cutting through the room like an arrow. “I’m staying! I’m going to find a way to end this and bring you back! And I know exactly where to start.” He turned around, trying hard to control his breathing, and sat down on their bed. Grabbing his phone, he began to scroll through his contacts, his hands visibly trembling. He swallowed hard several times to banish the last of his tears, before pressing the phone to his ear. A few moments passed-before he got an answer. “Yes, hello. This is Daniel Howell, from…” He reeled off their address to their landlord. “A…situation...has arisen. I know it's unusual-but is there any way you can put me in touch with the previous occupant? It’s urgent…very, very urgent…”


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you so much for reading, and for all your comments and kudos! Love you all <3 hope you enjoy! More soon xxx

 It did not matter how many times Dan insisted that none of this was his fault, that he did not blame him in the slightest and of course he did not hate him-Phil could not help himself. In the bathroom, he closed the window before running the shower as hot as it would go, so that the mirror and every reflective surface steamed up. He did not think that he could stand to look at himself.

 Lowering the temperature a fraction, he stepped in, and closed his eyes, letting the water run over him. It felt almost nice, washing the tearstains from his face and the sweat from his body. But, no matter how hard he scrubbed himself, no matter how hot he made the shower-he still did not feel clean. It was as if there was an invisible layer of dirt covering his whole body, that no amount of soap could ever penetrate. He kept his eyes shut as much as he could, hating to look down and see his own hands, the hands which had hurt Dan. He must have poured more shower gel onto them more times than he could count-and still, in his mind, they were filthy.

 Still, the images of Dan’s bruises and burns haunted him. There was nothing he would not give to swap places with him, to bear any pain Dan felt himself. He was the worst person in the entire world. Blinking back more tears, he picked up the shower gel once again.

* * *

 

 Dan had been waiting for almost half an hour to hear back from their landlord, feeling more on edge than ever. He was staring at his phone as if it was an unexploded bomb, faintly listening to the sound of the shower. Phil had been in there for an awfully long time, much longer than he ordinarily would be. Worry stirred inside him-he hoped he was okay. Well. As close to okay as anyone in his position could be.

 Finally-vibration. After some persuasion, the landlord had agreed to send Dan a contact number for the previous occupant. Now that he had apparently found it, he had texted him a mobile number. As he looked at it, Dan felt a surge of nerves in his stomach. It took him a full minute to work up the courage to press the call button. But, finally-he managed it. He had to find out anything he could about what they were up against. Perhaps he was about to speak to the owner of the Ouija board. Taking a deep breath, he pressed the phone to his ear.

 After three rings-a voice answered.

 “Hello!”

 Dan started slightly. He did not know what he had been expecting, what sort of person would be on the other end of the phone-but he certainly had not been expecting the high-pitched, slightly piercing greeting of a young child.

 “Oh-hello,” he said, making his voice gentle, and a lot friendlier. “Er-“

 “This is Mummy’s phone.” the child informed him, in a rather sweet formal tone, as if he were her secretary. Dan smiled in spite of himself.

 “Great! Would I be able to speak to your mummy, please?”

 “Mummy’s in the toilet,” the child answered helpfully-before the sound of a tumble and a crash. “Ow!”

 “Oh-are you okay?” Dan asked, concerned.

 “Yeah-I just fell over one of the boxes,” said the child, picking himself up. “There are boxes everywhere in the new flat,” he continued conversationally. “I like them. What’s your name?”

 “Er-I’m Dan,” said Dan, leaning forward. “Did you just move into your new flat?”

 “I’m Johnny,” said the boy. “Yeah! How did you know?”

 Dan pressed his lips together. He felt it was incredibly morally wrong to speak of any part of this to a child-but he was desperate. “I think I live in your old flat.”

 “Oooh!” said Johnny, sounding mildly interested. “Are you the _man_?”

 Dan frowned. “The man?”

 “Yes-the man in the attic.”

 A cold shiver slipped down Dan’s spine, as if someone had dropped an ice cube down his back. His heart skipped a few beats. “N-no. I’m not, sweetheart.” he murmured, trying not to sound as scared as he was.

 “Good. I’m not sure Mummy would want to talk to him. She didn’t like him very much,” Johnny said, as if this was the most ordinary thing in the world. “I don’t know why. He always said-“

 “Johnny!” Suddenly-a woman’s voice could be heard in the background, along with hurrying footsteps. “How many times do I have to tell you not to answer my phone!”

 “I’m talking!” said Johnny defiantly.

 “Don’t be so cheeky!” There was a small struggle-before the phone changed hands. “Hello?”

 Dan swallowed, much more nervous to speak to an adult. But he stiffened himself. “Hello. I hope you don’t mind my contacting you. Am-am I right in thinking that you used to live at…?” He reeled off their address.

 There was a small pause. “Yeah?” The woman sounded tired-it was clear that she had no time to take this call. “Who is this?”

 “Oh-I’m Dan. I-I live there now.”

 “…Right,” said the woman, moving through her flat as she spoke. Dan could hear the rattling of kitchen equipment. “Are you still getting my post, or something?”

 “N-no…” Dan swallowed again, trying to work out how he ought to word this without sounding completely insane. “Er…this is going to sound crazy…but…When you lived in the flat-did anything…odd…ever happen to you?”

 The sound of running water into a steel sink. “Odd? What kind of odd?”

 “I mean…did anything ever…oh God, I’m sorry, I must sound so stupid. But-but did anything…strange…ever happen to you? I mean-it’s just-” he said, trying not to sound frantic, or on the verge of tears. “It’s just my boyfriend found this-this Ouija board in the attic, and-“

 Suddenly-all noise from the other end of the phone stopped. The water was switched off. The kitchen equipment stopped rattling. Dan could hear nothing but heavy breathing-and the sound of a child-Johnny-playing in the background. The woman’s silence was almost deafening. But it was going on for far too long, and Dan was growing more desperate by the moment.

 “Hello?” he tried.

 “…The board,” she said, quietly. Gone was the overworked mother. This serious tone was an entirely different person. “Did you play it?”

 Dan felt a strange jolt inside. But at the same time-there was a great release. To have someone from the outside validate their fears…it was almost wonderful.

 “Y-yes.” Dan whispered.

 The woman gave an enormous sigh-then, the sound of a hand hitting a hard surface. In the distance, he could hear the boy Johnny shouting for his mother. But the woman paid no mind to him at all. Even from the other end of the phone, Dad could almost feel the cogs of her brain whirring.

 “I should have expected this…” she murmured. “I shouldn’t have…” There was a long pause, as the mother decided that she was better off not finishing whatever that statement was going to be. Then, as if she was having to physically drag the sentence from her throat: “Have you seen… _him_?”

 The way she said the final word. It was as if that one syllable scared the life out of her.

 “No,” said Dan carefully. “I haven’t _seen_ anyone. But-but there’s been other things.” It was so bizarre to talk about it-as if he was telling a great secret to a complete stranger. “Things moving-the board moved from the kitchen to the living room by itself-we were upstairs, there was no way either of us could have-Dreams-strange dreams. And-and…” He sniffed hard. “My boyfriend. He-he’s…not right. Something is happening to him. It’s-it’s _terrifying_. Please-“ He blinked hard to stop his tears. “ _Please_. Do you know anything about this?”

 The woman was silent for a long moment. Then- “…Have either of you been… _bitten_?”

 Dan felt his heart swoop horribly in his chest. “Yes. Me. T-three times.”

 “Only three?” The woman made a strange noise, which was almost like a laugh. There was an air about her, as if she was some sort of veteran soldier, who had seen far too many terrible things to count. He heard another sound-a chair being pulled out, sitting down heavily. “I’d almost say you were lucky…” She took in a deep breath, and another. “Alright…alright…” she whispered to herself. More shouts from Johnny, seemingly worlds away.

 “Who’s… _he_?” Dan asked, dreading whatever the answer might be. 

 The woman made a noise. He could tell that a hand was clamped to her mouth. Johnny’s calling became louder, more demanding.

 “I can’t do this now…” the woman muttered. She sounded sickened-it was clear that she had thought all of this terrible business behind her. But-she steadied herself. “Can we meet?”

 “Meet?” Dan was a little surprised-but he was willing to try anything. “Of course.”

 “Tomorrow.” said the woman. “The Starbucks. It’s a street away from…there. You know it?”

 “Yes.”

 “Two o’clock,” said the woman. Then, an afterthought- “It’s Rachel, by the way. Dan, was it?”

 “Hello.” said Dan, feeling very strange.

 “You-you sound so young...” she said, swallowing hard. Suddenly-a dry sob. A terrible, dry sob, from a tired and terrified woman. “ _I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry_.”  

* * *

 

 “Hi.”

 Dan looked up. There was Phil, his hair still wet from the shower. He looked so nervous, stood awkwardly in the living room door frame. Dan sat up-he had almost fallen asleep, slouching on the sofa without the slightest idea what to do with himself. Phil looked every bit as tired as he did-but his eyes were very bright as he looked down at Dan. A thousand unspoken words passed between them. But when Dan looked back at his boyfriend-he felt nothing but love. Terrible as it was-they were together in this. They could not fall apart.

 “I found the last tenant,” he said. “I-we-can meet her tomorrow.”

 “G-good.” Phil managed to say, his throat very dry. He shuffled his feet slightly, biting at his lip. Then-he opened his mouth. “Would you feel better if I went upstairs?” It came out in a rush. “I mean-I don’t mind-don’t feel like you’re-I mean-“

 Dan sighed sadly. He felt the strings of his heart break one by one as he looked up at his wretched boyfriend, so full of guilt he should not have to bear. It was so awful to watch Phil tear himself apart. So, what could Dan do but open his arms wide? "Oh, darling, come here..." 

 With a sigh of relief-Phil practically ran to him. He collapsed into him, burying his face in Dan’s chest. It was so beautiful to hold him close-his Phil, his own Phil, no one else-Dan kissed his damp hair, smelling their shampoo and shower gel, cold and clean. “I should stay away from you…” Phil whispered into his shirt. “I can’t bear the fact that you’re not safe with me. You’ve _always_ been safe with me…I-I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…”

 Dan took a deep breath, pulling him closer. “Phil Lester…if you ever apologise again, I will throw your laptop out of the window.”

 In spite of himself, Phil let out a snort of laugher. He looked up at Dan, hardly daring to believe that he could still joke at a time like this. “Oh God…a fate worse than death…” He gave a weak smile.

 “Yeah…” Dan smiled back as ordinarily as he could. “It’s going to be okay. We’re getting this sorted.”

 “Well. _You_ are.” said Phil admirably. “I’ve been useless…” He sat up a little, snuggling into Dan. “I think it’s best if I carry on sleeping down here, though.”

 Dan swallowed hard. “Yes. As much as I hate it-I think so too.” He sighed. “I don’t want you on your own all night with-with that thing.” He jerked his head in the direction of the board, still sat mockingly on the coffee table.

 “It’s okay,” said Phil manfully. “I’d rather it was me than you. And-“ He met Dan’s eyes, taking his hands. “Promise me you’ll push the drawers up against the door again. Barricade it. Make it as secure as you can. Make sure no one-especially me-can get in.” He looked sad-but very serious.

 Dan’s heart ached. “Oh God…I hate this so much…”

 “Me too. But if it means you’ll be safe, and I can’t hurt you, then I’m willing to do anything,” Phil squeezed his hands-then stopped, letting his grip go slack. “I’m almost scared to touch you at all. I feel like I could break you so easily…” He looked up at Dan, his eyes very wide-before he shut them tightly, looking away. “I’m a monster. You should hate me. Though I know no one could hate me as much as I hate myself..."

 Dan paused-then took Phil’s hands again, holding them as tightly as he could. “ _Stop that_. Stop that now. I’m not afraid of you. You’re not a monster-you’re Phil, my Phil, and I love you. It would take more than some creepy wooden board to stop me loving you.”

 Phil make another strange, choking sound. He looked down at Dan’s arm, at the bruises. It was as if they were the most devastating thing he had ever seen in his life. After a long moment…he bent his head, and began, so gently, to kiss each one. Dan felt his heart swell and shatter simultaneously. It was impossible to believe that the same mouth who had bitten and tore at his skin was capable of something so loving…

 “I love you too, Dan…”

 Like two survivors of some terrible shipwreck, the two clung to each other, trying to make sense of the horrible situation they had been thrust into-and quietly dreading their uncertain futures…


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for the hiatus-I've been so busy! Sorry this chapter is so short. But thank you so much for sticking with me, and for leaving comments and kudos! <3 much love xxx  
>  More soon! xxx

 BANG.

 Dan sat bolt upright, his head springing off of the pillow so fast that it dizzied him-but he had no time to think on it. He could not believe that he had managed to wake up so fast-usually, he was slow after sleeping-but now, he was ready. Rubbing his hands across his face to ensure he was truly awake, he automatically looked to the other side of the bed for Phil-but of course, he found it empty.

 BANG.

 Dan’s stomach gave an unpleasant lurch. The banging noises were coming from the bedroom door. He looked up to see the chest of drawers he had pushed against it-and the chair for good luck. He felt the slightest twinge of relief-

 BANG.

 Someone was pounding on the bedroom door. And with considerable force. In fact, such was the force of the blows that every drawer in the chest was rattling. He could hear their contents crashing around inside. And the chair-the back of the chair was glancing off the wood, making small tapping sounds after every-

 BANG.

 Dan pulled his knees up to his chest, reaching over to the bedside table for his phone.

 “Phil?” he called out, uncertainly. “Is that you?”

 There was no answer. Dan drew his knees even closer, unlocking his phone with one hand as he kept his eyes firmly on the door. Whatever was outside, it was absolutely desperate to enter. And there was no way that was going to happen. But just in case-Dan kept his hand hovered over his mobile, just in case-just in case he needed to make an emergency call. He tried to keep calm, ensuring that his breathing was even. Right. Right. Okay. It could not get in.

 BANG. BANG. BANG.

 The blows began to come faster, the force unaffected by speed, or repetition. Dan looked down at his phone, wondering who on earth he could call. The police? But how could he do that to Phil? Dan took another deep breath. Okay. Okay. It could not get in. It could not get in. He would just have to wait out the night-

  _BANG._

“ _God_ …” he whispered. Fear was creeping into his blood like ice, as a terrible thought crossed his mind. If this creature could beat up a door with this much ferocity-what on Earth would it do when it got to its target. And-and _he_ was the target. Dan gave a silent whimper. How could this have happened? How could the person he loved more than anyone else, who loved him in kind, who had wept in his arms and kissed his bruises, wish to hurt him? But of course-it wasn’t Phil at all. Still, it was so terrible to think that something was puppeting him in such a way. He hated the thought of that almost as much as he hated this.

  _BANG_.

Dan had never been so scared in his life. This was going to be a long night...

* * *

 

 Knock. 

 Dan’s eyes snapped open from his fitful sleep. He sat up, staring apprehensively at the door. “Phil?” he croaked.

 “Morning.” came the most familiar voice in the world.

 Dan let out a sigh of relief. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing his face to try and wake himself up, and mustered all of his strength to push the chest of drawers aside. Finally, after moving the chair back to its proper place, he opened the door, to reveal a well-rested-looking Phil in pyjamas smiling at him. But the moment they looked at one another-his face fell.

 “Look at your eyes!” Phil exclaimed. He reached up and gently fingered the enormous purple bags beneath Dan’s eyes, evidence of his now frequent sleepless nights. “Oh, baby, didn’t you sleep?” Then-realisation. “Was it me?”

 Dan pressed his lips together, not wanting Phil to feel guilty about something far beyond his control-but his face spoke for itself. Phil said nothing for a moment, a flash of that intense self-loathing crossing his face-before he pulled Dan into his arms. “You go back to bed, okay?” he murmured gently, beginning to lead him back into their bedroom.

 “You…I mean, _it_ …banged on the door for three hours straight.” Dan whispered, wanting to be transparent-but hating the guilt in Phil’s eyes. “Don’t you dare blame yourself-there’s nothing you could have done.” He let himself be taken back to bed, climbing under the still-warm duvet, ensuring that he hid his bad arm from Phil to prevent him feeling any worse-but it seemed it was on his mind anyway.

 “At least I didn’t hurt you again.”

 “ _It_ didn’t hurt me.” said Dan firmly-but the moment his head hit the pillow, he could feel his eyes closing. Still, he fought sleep. Horribly, after the violent attempt at entrance last night, Dan found that he did not want to be unconscious and off-guard with Phil in the room. This hurt him more than he could say-but it would not be forever. Today, he would meet Rachel-the mysterious previous tenant… “Make sure you wake me up in time to meet Rachel.”

 Phil blinked, as if he had forgotten-before nodding. “Of course.” He gently pulled the duvet up to Dan’s neck, tucking him in and kissing his forehead, so tenderly it was almost desperate. “Don’t worry. I’m going out-I’m going to buy a lock for that door. You’re completely safe.” He kissed him again, before straightening up. “See you later. I love you.”

 “Love you too…” Dan whispered, watching with half-open eyes as Phil left the room, carefully closing the door behind him. Only when he heard the front door slam and the key turn did Dan close his eyes, pulling the duvet up and over his head.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! So sorry for another hiatus, I've been so busy! But more soon, promise <3  
> Thank you so much for reading, and for leaving comments and kudos! Much love xxx  
> WARNING: There's a lot of talk of death in this chapter

 At the door of the Starbucks close to their house, Dan paused. He looked at Phil, who was standing just behind him. Phil said nothing-but he reached out and took Dan’s hand in his, squeezing it supportively. Though the familiarity of his hand and the gesture were comforting-Dan could not help but wish to tear his hand away. The bruises on his arm tingled, the burn mark on his tummy was still raw…he loathed fearing Phil like nothing else in the world. The feeling of being torn between love and dread was simply horrible.

 “Okay?” Phil asked him, before pushing the door open. Still holding nervously onto his hand, Dan allowed him to lead the way into the café.  

 The place was mostly deserted-only a group of teenage girls in the corner, an old man sitting on his own with newspapers, and two heavily tattooed baristas behind the counter. It wasn’t until they had both ordered drinks that Phil tapped Dan on the shoulder and pointed to the farmost corner of the room, mostly obscured by a half-wall. There, at a four-seated table, sat a woman in her thirties with long brown hair, dyed blonde at the ends. She wore blue, sipping a cup of coffee and staring out of the window. By her side-a little boy with identically coloured brown hair, only his was cut into a fringe. He wore a pair of headphones that looked much too big for his small head, and was clearly engrossed in a game he was playing on a tablet. Dan gulped. It had to be Rachel.

 After collecting their drinks, Dan followed his boyfriend to their table. As soon as they were within six feet-the woman looked up. As soon as she saw them, she knew who they must be-and Dan couldn’t help but notice a flash of dread behind her eyes. Nonetheless, she gave a wan smile. “Dan?”

 “Hello,” Dan said, stepping forward and pretending to be more confident than he felt. Following her invitation, he and Phil sat down opposite her. The boy Johnny did not even look up, concentrating on his game. Dan almost envied him. “Rachel.”

 “Yes.”

 “H-how are you?”

 “I’m well, thank you.”

 “Thank _you_ for coming.”

 After this rather awkward exchange, there was a short silence. Neither party knew how to begin this bizarre meeting. Dan looked at Rachel, taking her in. She had a pleasant face, her cheeks soft and smooth-but the dark circles under her eyes were visible even beneath a layer of concealer. It was clear that she did not want to be here any more than Dan did. But it was necessary. They both knew it.

 Finally, Rachel leaned forward, lowering her voice so there was no chance Johnny could hear her. She looked business-like, obviously keen for the meeting to be over. Still, her eyes were not unkind. “Show me your marks.”

 At this, Phil’s eyes became fixed on his lap, ashamed to look. Dan gritted his teeth-then pulled back the long sleeves he had been wearing for Phil’s comfort. On his arm, the bite-marks were clear as day. Rachel looked at them for a long moment, as if staring for long enough might make them disappear. Then, with a quick glance at Johnny to make sure he wasn’t watching-she pulled up her own sleeve.

 Dan gasped. There, all along her forearm, were faded marks, discolouration in the skin from long-ago injuries. But all were ring-shaped. The shape of mouths…

 “I have more,” Rachel said, quickly pulling her sleeve back into place as Dan pulled his. The sight of the marks had shocked him. Would he bear his forever? “Since when-?”

 “Show her the burn, Dan.” Phil said quietly.

 Dan paused. “We don’t have to-“

 “It’s okay.” Phil nodded in reluctant encouragement, his eyes still averted. With a sigh-Dan pulled up the hem of his t-shirt. Still, the perfect hand-shaped mark was red raw on his skin.

 Rachel blinked-then looked shocked. “He never did anything like that when I lived there!”

 Dan ignored this rather worrying comment, pulling his shirt down. “Who is “he”?”

 But Rachel was looking at Phil. “He’s taken you, hasn’t he?”

 Phil spluttered a little, his hands gripping his knees in an effort to remain calm. “I-I think so.” he whispered. Then-he looked up. “I’m the one hurting Dan. I-I have no idea how-but I bruised him and burned him-and-“ His voice was becoming faster, more frantic-before he caught himself. Dan put a hand on his arm supportively, before he took a deep breath. “How did you stop it? How-?”

 “He’s stronger now…” Rachel said, more to herself than anyone else. She glanced at Dan’s front, picturing the burn mark. Then-her face screwed up, as if she was holding back tears. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to stop him. I-I can only tell you what happened to us, but-“

 “Tell us.” said Dan, leaning forward. “Anything is better than nothing.”

 But Phil had spoken up once again. “Can’t we just-can’t we just move away?”

 Rachel looked pained. “We tried. He won’t let you go. Once he’s marked you, he-“

 “Who’s “ _he_ ”?” Dan asked again, more clearly this time.

 Rachel glanced out of the window again, as if she was expecting a face to appear outside the glass. But finally-she turned to back to them. After a deep breath, and a last backward glance-she began. “A year after we moved into the flat-I found the board in the attic. I don’t know how, or why-but that was when it began. After it was played. It-it was almost like-I don’t know. Like an _alarm_ of some sort. It-it alerted him. It let him know that someone was in his flat.”

 Dan felt a shiver down his spine. He looked at Phil, who was listening hard, guilt flooding his face like the tide. With a pang, he reached under the table and held Phil’s hand tightly, squeezing it, not letting go.

 “After that… _things_ started to happen,” said Rachel, her tone hushed. “I would put the board back into the attic, and the next morning I would find it in the living room-as if it had not been moved at all. Then-the marks started to appear…and-“ Again, she took a deep, shuddering breath. Once again, she looked at her son, ensuring that he was unaware, blissfully absorbed in his game. Then-she pulled up her sleeve once more. Dan looked carefully at the bite marks…then frowned. He pictured his own marks, the size and shape of Phil’s mouth…Rachel’s were far, far smaller.

 Dan gasped as he realised. And moments later-Phil gripped his hand even tighter.

 Rachel nodded, confirming what they had guessed. “Johnny had terrible nightmares. He used to sleep with me-and the next morning, I would wake up with more marks.”

 “I had nightmares,” Suddenly, Phil spoke, very quietly. “At the beginning.”

 “A black mass?” Rachel asked, with a note of grim resolution in her voice.

 Phil merely nodded.

 “That’s him. He has no shape. No size. No face.”

 There was another silence.

 “It got worse,” Rachel whispered. “In the beginning, he took Johnny in spurts-mostly at night. It was almost bearable. But, as the months went by-Johnny began to…disappear. He was _him_ , all the time. And-and he was out of control.”

 Phil physically shook. Dan’s heart dropped right out of his chest as he used every ounce of energy he had to keep calm. He could not think about this horrible consequence, a terrible prophecy of their future. But, as he looked at the small boy in front of him, could only muster a single question-a question that bore the last strands of hope he had. “But-but-Johnny’s still here!” he said, desperately. “Johnny is fine! How-?”

 “You must pay him.” said Rachel simply. Now, a note of pure dread was creeping into her voice. “Rent, I suppose. For living in his flat.”

 “ _Rent_?”

 Rachel looked grim. “Pay him and he’ll let you go. He’ll give you your life back.” Again-her face screwed up as she bit back tears. “…There’s only one thing that can pay for life.”

 Dan knew the answer before she had spoken it.

 “ _Death_.”

 Phil was speechless. He clung onto Dan so tightly it hurt.

  _No_. Dan shook his head, every fibre of his being feeling as if it was being swallowed up by a black hole. It couldn’t be. Not Phil. He wouldn’t let it be. “But-but _Johnny_ -he’s still here-how?” he tried desperately.

 Rachel steadied herself-then held out her mobile phone. Her screensaver was a photograph. It showed Rachel, several pounds heavier and a lot happier, standing on a beach wearing a swimming costume. In her arms, a baby boy in a very cute sunsuit, his hat pulled right down over his face. And beside them, his arms around them both as he grinned in a pleasant, goofy way at the camera-was a man. Even from the photograph, Dan could see that he was the image of Johnny-his son.

 Rachel was crying now, tears of pure, raw grief.

 “He doesn’t care who pays.”


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry again for the long wait! But thank you so much for sticking with me, and for all of your lovely comments and kudos! It means a lot that people are even reading, let alone taking the time to do anything else, so thank you <3 much love and more soon! xxx  
> WARNING: There's quite a bit of talk of death in this chapter! But promise there will be fluff soon! xxx

  Dan and Phil sat side by side on the sofa, staring down at the Ouija board-which appeared to stare straight back. Both still had their shoes on, their hair still swept by the wind-they had returned from the café only minutes before. And neither had spoken yet.

 After a long silence-Phil reached out and placed his hand on Dan’s knee. Dan looked down at the familiar pale hand, recalling the first time he had held it. He remembered his bruises, his burns, how dangerous Phil was becoming-but none of that seemed to matter anymore. All he could do was to cover the hand of the man he loved with his own, holding on as tightly as he could.

 “Are you okay?” he asked, delicately. Perhaps stupidly.

 Phil merely pressed his lips together. He shrugged one shoulder, still holding onto Dan. Then-he looked up. “No. No, I’m not.”

 Dan felt like he could cry. The strange, detached tone in Phil’s voice was more than he could bear. However-he did not have the first idea what to say. What on earth could one say in such a situation? He still felt shell-shocked himself. Perhaps even in denial. There was simply no way to process the information they had just been given by the grieving widow Rachel, with her half-orphaned son. Strange dreams, funny happenings, impossible burns, even Phil’s periods of apparent possession could perhaps be explained away, a horrific series of coincidences. A death-a real death-could not.

 Dan was still young-a relative baby in the grand stretch of time. No matter how much he contemplated his own death-he wasn’t sure he had still truly grasped it. How could any living person truly grasp it? The finality, the mystery, the sheer…absence. 

 He looked at Phil, who stared dumbly into nothingness. How was it that Phil, the love of his life, who laughed and cried and ate and drank and walked and talked, with cheerful smiles and warm cuddles, could be alive and giggling today-then be something as adult and cold and dramatic as dead the next? It simply did not seem possible.

 It wasn’t possible. Dan screwed up his eyes, refusing even to consider Phil’s death. It was too catastrophic even to imagine. How could he cope? He couldn’t. It would be like losing half of himself-an arm, a leg, half his brain, half his heart.

 He looked at Phil again, his warm, pale hand beneath his own. No. There was simply no way. It could not happen.

 Phil himself was still staring listlessly at the wall. He took a deep breath-then let it out.

 “I think…I think I need a few minutes,” he said, his voice still strange, disconnected. “Sorry-I just need to get my head around a few things.” He got to his feet, squeezing Dan’s hand tightly. “I’m going upstairs. I’ll come back down in a bit and we’ll talk, okay?” He dropped a kiss on  Dan’s hair, lingering as long as he dared. “I love you.”

 Dan felt an odd sense of dread in his stomach-but he understood. “Love you too.” he said, his throat dry. With a final pat on his shoulder-Phil was gone.

 The moment Phil closed the door behind him-Dan’s eyes fell straight to the board. He _loathed_ it. It took every fibre of his being to keeping himself from rushing back to the kitchen and grabbing the scissors again, to throw all sanity aside, find a hammer and smash the wretched thing to pieces. But he had learned from his mistakes. He knew that the way to beat this board was not physical. It had to be mental. It had to be, as ridiculous as it sounded, on the terms of the board.

 “Just you and me now…” he whispered, as if expecting an answer. The board made no reaction. He folded his arms as his eyes fell on the planchette. It took only a few moments for him to make up his mind. No matter how foolish it was-he knew that there was only one way to communicate with the board-with the mysterious “him”-for sure.

 Before he could reconsider-he slid from the sofa onto the floor, resting his fingers on the planchette and moving the window over the letter “ _G_ ”. Again, fear fluttered in his belly, making him slightly sick. But still-he gritted his teeth.

 “What is your name?” he asked, making his voice much more confident than he felt.

 The planchette did not move.

 “I’ll ask you again. What is your name? Why are you here?”

 Still-there was no movement.

 “Why won’t you speak to me?” he demanded. “Will you only talk to Phil? Why?”

 Nothing.

 Dan waited. It must have been ten minutes or more before, giving up, he slid the planchette towards “ _GOODBYE_ ”. But just before he did so, his voice trembling: “You will not have him, do you hear me? You will never take him.” Then-he ended the session.

 Dan leaned back on the sofa, covering his face with his hands. He felt that, a week ago, he might have cried. But now-he no longer felt capable. He merely stared up at the ceiling, wondering what on Earth he was going to do.

 Phil had been gone an awfully long time. Dan slid his phone from his pocket and checked-it was coming up on twenty minutes. What was he doing? Dan bit his lip, knowing that Phil had asked him to leave him alone. But soon, concern got the better of him, and he got to his feet, jogging up the stairs. Taking a deep breath, he knocked hard on his bedroom door. “Phil? Darling, are you okay?”

 “No, don’t come in!” came the call from inside.

 Fear was beginning to bite at him. “What’s wrong?”

 “I’m fine! Just don’t come in!” Phil called once again.

 Dan couldn’t bear it. “What don’t you want me to see?” His voice was an octave higher than usual.

 “Nothing!” It was obviously a lie.

 Hating himself, but dread getting the better of him-Dan threw the door open. There, sat cross-legged on his bed, a notepad and pen in hand, was Phil. “Dan!” He clutched the notepad to his chest, hiding what he had written. “Please, don’t-!”

 But Dan had already rushed forward. In no time, he had wrested the notepad from Phil’s hands. On the page-was a list. Dan scanned it, his dread doubling. There were the names of Phil’s parents. Other members of his family. Dan saw his own name-then the names of some of their friends. All of Phil’s nearest and dearest-all those he loved the most.

 Beneath-Phil had begun a letter. It was addressed to his mother. Dan could not bear to read it. In that moment-he realised exactly what Phil was doing.

 “Phil, what the fuck is this?” He couldn’t believe it, turning the notebook over and over, as if the black text on the page might change. “Why are you saying _goodbye_?”

 Phil looked defeated. He shrunk down onto the bed, suddenly looking smaller and younger than Dan had ever seen him. “Just-just in case.” he whispered.

 Dan felt numb with panic.

 “Phil…” He sat down on the bed beside him, taking both of his hands. “Stop it. Right now.” He held on tighter. “It’s always been you building me up and guiding me when I have one of my darker moments. Now, you listen to me now.”

 Dan got to his feet. He walked over the bedroom cabinet, and began to rummage.

 “I’m sorry,” Phil sounded close to tears. “It’s-it’s just-“ He sniffed hard. “Oh Dan, I couldn’t stop thinking about Rachel’s husband. He wasn’t the one who was-you know-like me. That was Johnny. And-and yet he died. And-and I couldn’t bear thinking that-that- _he_ -might take you instead!” It seemed to take all of his strength just to say those words. “Dan, I couldn’t lose you. And-and if it came down to you or me, there’s no competition at all-“ He looked up at Dan, his eyes shining. "I love you so much-"

 “ _Shut up_!” Dan shouted, still rummaging in the drawer-and finally finding what he was looking for. The lighter they used to light candles in the bedroom.

 “But-“

 But the words caught in his throat as he watched Dan put a lighter to the notebook. The flame caught-and slowly, the page began to shrivel and burn black in Dan’s hand. For a few moments, both of them watched as the page was eaten away by the flame. Then-Dan ran from the room, dashing to the bathroom and filling the sink with water. He threw the page in, and watched grimly as the flame was extinguished and the last black embers floated to the surface. Pulling the plug, he hurried back to the bedroom. Phil sat exactly where he had been left on the bed, looking on as Dan threw the lighter back onto the bed.

 “Stop it,” he repeated, tears biting behind his eyes. “Don’t you dare even think it.” He sat back down on the bed, and threw his arms fiercely around his boyfriend. “We’re going to beat this. We're going to come through this.  _Together_.”


End file.
